


As It Was, So It Shall Be Made Better

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Community: kink_bingo, Disabled Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Disorder, Penance - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo finds something in the woods he never expected to see.  This is a Viggo bit that you really don't need the rest of the Viggo arc for, suffice it to say he's a vampire, and he's quite possessive and a little "crazy," and he lives in a secluded cabin in upstate New York with his human pet Elijah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As It Was, So It Shall Be Made Better

**Author's Note:**

> The Tangled Histories verse exists in a world where the existence of vampires is known and accepted, and a handful of vampire families make up somewhere between two and ten percent of the world population. In this verse, vampires are not affected by sunlight and there is no great universal conflict between mortals and immortal. Vampires generally only take human blood that is offered willingly, and there are plenty of humans willing to offer. They can only die from not feeding enough and perhaps a few other rare conditions. The most important things to these vampires are age, family, and respect. Various pairings will be explored in the verse, and stories may jump around the chronology, but I'm going to try to write so that they can be read as standalones. In other words, I'm trying to avoid a WIP series, and there's no telling how long it'll take me to tell these stories, but they'll appear sporadically and all be listed under the Tangled Histories heading in my fic index.

It's cold in these woods, and somewhere in the back of Robert's mind, or what's left of it, he registers that. He hasn't noticed cold like this in hundreds of years, but everything's more acute when you're hungry, more... mortal.

Pine needles prick the back of his neck, buried in the snow, and he thinks with a sarcastic mental smile how he was right, how he's always been right. He can't live without his sire. It's not hyperbole, it's hard facts.

Fact one: a vampire cannot survive without human blood.

Fact two: Robert, for all his eight hundred years on this earth, might as well be an infant, vampirically speaking.

Fact three: Robert's sire is in England, and he is not.

Fact four: Robert's sire does not care.

The colors blur, go dim around him, and the cold grows stronger. He remembers the guilt, the pain, the confusion of his first death. _Ashes to ashes,_ his mind whispers to him, in the voice of his sire. _Dust to dust._ He blinks, with effort, for a last glimpse of the sun.

~*~

Viggo's running, the air filling his lungs, on the way to the lake, when he senses it. Another vampire, somewhere nearby, but the sense of it is very faint. He frowns and considers a moment, then slows to a walk and decides to investigate. Instinct says that something isn't right, and when he finds what he's looking for, he feels a fist tighten in his chest.

Viggo has never been a social creature, never had any interest in vampires outside his own family, and only limited interest in those within it. But something about _this_ vampire draws him, even aside from the unusualness of the situation.

And it's certainly unusual. The man is sprawled out on the ground, but he doesn't appear to be sleeping. Even up close, the sense of him is weak, and there's a layer of fresh fallen snow covering his body. Viggo approaches slowly, bends down. The sight is disturbing on a number of levels, and it's nothing Viggo's ever seen. The snow around the man's thighs is stained with blood--a lot of blood. The wounds have healed, as all wounds do for their kind, but the man is blood-starved and unconscious. Viggo can't imagine who could've done this, but there will be time for questions later. He lifts the heavy body onto his shoulder and runs.

~*~

When Viggo returns to the cottage, three boys from the nearest town in tow, Elijah is as Viggo left him, the stranger's head in his lap, stroking the thick dark hair shot through with grey. His blue eyes are worried, and he holds the small silver knife Viggo gave him, just in case, in a loose fist. Viggo goes to him first, kisses his mouth and touches his cheek. Then he calls the first boy forward, slits the boy's wrist and holds it above the vampire's mouth, opening the jaw with his own hands.

"What's wrong with him?" the boy asks, but Viggo shakes his head and squeezes the wound, making the blood flow faster. It fills the vampire's mouth, and it is a moment before he swallows reflexively, another ten minutes and the second boy's blood before his eyes blink open in confusion.

"It's okay," Elijah murmurs, still stroking his hair as the vampire drinks from the blood flowing into his mouth. "Just drink it, it's okay. We'll take care of you."

~*~

"I'll bring you someone else tonight," Viggo explains, once Elijah is back downstairs and the boys are gone. "You were... near to death," he admits, quietly. "You'll need to feed daily for a while."

The stranger only frowns. "Okay," he manages, hoarsely. Viggo gives him a sip of water.

"What is your name?"

"Robert."

"My name is Viggo, Robert. You are welcome in my home while you recover."

"...thank you," Robert replies, looking a little confused.

"I need to know, however, who did this to you. If there is a vampire threatening our own kind in this region, I must..."

"Did what?" Robert interrupts. Viggo frowns.

"Someone bled you out from the femoral artery. You must have been starving already, for the wound not to close, and..."

He trails off, because Robert's smiling sadly at him and shaking his head.

"I did it myself." Viggo's eyes widen. "I was trying to kill myself. Evidently... I did not succeed."

"You were trying to kill..." Viggo stares at him. It's completely unheard of, quite literally the only case Viggo's ever known. "But vampires don't commit suicide!"

Robert smiles weakly. "I suppose I am an original."

"Why...?"

"It is irrelevant. If you will excuse me." It seems that something has just occurred to him, and Robert gets quickly to his feet, but just as quickly drops, into Viggo's arms, staggering a few steps.

"Easy," Viggo murmurs. "Easy. You are still very weak."

"Then it will be easier, this time."

Viggo frowns. "I cannot allow you to do this to yourself."

"Noble. But uninformed. What do you know of me?"

"I know..." Viggo pauses, raises a hand to the vampire's cheek. He has a haunted look about him, and Viggo's senses tell him that Robert is deeply troubled, living with some great pain. Whether mental or emotional, Viggo can't be sure. "I know that you hurt," he murmurs finally, helping Robert to the sofa.

"Astute observation," Robert says quietly, but he doesn't try to move this time. He is obviously exhausted, and when Viggo pulls a blanket over him, his eyes slowly fall shut.

~*~

"I can't allow you to leave," Viggo murmurs, his eyes watchful even in the dark. Robert is only halfway off the sofa. He sits and sighs.

"Sic erat, sic erit." Viggo frowns at him for a long moment, his eyes searching, and Robert offers a weak smile. "I am a scholar, not an ancient. Study was intended to keep me from going mad," he says with a short sharp laugh.

"I do not mean to keep you prisoner," Viggo says gently. "But I need to know who did this to you."

"I told you," Robert says sharply, the humor edging out of his voice. "I did it to myself."

"No. Someone drove you to it." There's no doubt of that in Viggo's mind. The little clues of hopelessness, the phrasing of Robert's sentence-- _study was intended to keep me from going mad_. The passive voice, carefully selected.

"What does it matter? You couldn't find him."

 _So there is a him._ "It matters to me."

"I'm disturbed. Mentally unstable. You don't need the complication in your life." Robert stands again, but he is still weak. Viggo rises and takes his wrist in a quick, sharp grasp.

"Let me be the judge of that," Viggo rasps. "Madness does not frighten me."

"No?" Robert laughs again. "You have not witnessed it, if that is your answer."

"I do not need to," Viggo counters. "I have lived it. And what does it mean, to be mad? To be haunted by something others cannot see? To have insights that others claim insane? To see the world in different colors? I do not fear madness. I fear solitude."

Robert closes his eyes. "I both fear and long for it," he says quietly, and there is a pause between them, a moment a mortal would mark with a breath, a heartbeat. Then his eyes snap open and he pulls his wrist away. "It is irrelevant."

~*~

When the house is quiet, Robert reads. There _is_ something of a madness in the way his eyes flick across the page, his subtle tics. His eyes dart from one corner of the room to another, then back to the book. He cannot be still for more than a few seconds at a time, and he compulsively organizes the little part of the sofa that he has claimed, that end of the coffee table, the things on the floor around it. He looks to Viggo frequently, as if expecting punishment, as if expecting that bit of control to be denied him, but Viggo does not argue at the way his perennial mess is rearranged into stacks. Nor does he comment at Robert's constantly flinching hands, the fingers flexing and relaxing, jumping to his hair, pulling at his clothing. He does not comment, but he does wonder. There is a desire in him, older than the ages, to hold and still those shaking hands, to press himself against Robert's body until the man finds some calm in Viggo's weight. He does wonder about that.

~*~

 _Flames jump and spit all around them. He is hungry, so hungry. Strong arms hold his own behind his back, and he snarls with the desire to feed, to taste blood. This monster has taken his life, but he is still here, he is still able to stare into the faces of his family. He is skin and bones, too thin, too old, he would have been dead in a year. His young siblings, his widowed mother, her husband._

 _"You want them," a voice whispers in his ear. "You want to drink from them. You are very hungry."_

 _He is very hungry, he is ravenous, and he has been in this state of the living dead for two days, for two days the monster has kept him away from mortal blood. His arms are released and he leaps, grabbing the first one he comes to, his youngest sister, he cannot remember her name in his bloodlust. He snaps her neck, he drinks from her vein, and it is so satisfying, so rich. He turns to his mother next, and his brother, and after three he feels bloated, his head is starting to swim. The monster--his Sire--pulls him away._

 _"Animal," he whispers in Robert's ear. "You are an animal." His vision swims. The night is black with smoke and ash._

~*~

"Sarah!"

The other vampire convulses in Viggo's arms, and his embrace tightens instinctively. He holds Robert to his chest, stroking his forehead, easing him into wakeness. "Shh. Shh. It was only a nightmare."

"No," Robert croaks, eyes wild, grabbing the front of Viggo's shirt. "Her name was Sarah."

"Okay," Viggo whispers, stroking Robert's cheek. "Sarah. Okay."

~*~

Viggo brings Robert another boy, as promised. Robert is obviously hungry, but he makes no move towards the boy. He looks at him in confusion, his eyes distant, until the boy steps forward and pulls his collar down, exposing his neck. To Viggo's surprise, he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"No."

"Robert," Viggo murmurs gently. "I won't let you."

"No, I... I don't..." He sputters for a moment, and Viggo tries to figure out what he is trying to say.

"His blood is clean. No drugs, no alcohol."

Robert shakes his head viciously.

"I don't understand."

"I _can't_ ," Robert says, and his voice is a sharp, choked whine. He grasps the bookcase for support, and Viggo is there immediately, by his side, gently touching his face.

"You can't what? You can tell me," Viggo murmurs very quietly, too quietly for the boy to hear.

"I am a monster," Robert whispers. "A murderer."

Viggo frowns. "I don't understand."

"I can't... I can't," Robert moans, sinking to his knees. Despite the vampire's words, Viggo wraps his arms around Robert's body. There must be an explanation. Robert is old, Viggo can feel it. Disturbed, frightened, weak, but older than Viggo himself. Surely he has killed, and there is no shame in that.

"It doesn't matter," Viggo promises. "It doesn't matter what you've done. Feed from him, he is willing."

"I don't... I don't know _how_ ," Robert manages, finally. Viggo frowns and tries to understand. Something dawns on him, and he beckons the boy forward.

"Give me your wrist." The boy obeys, and Viggo holds it to his own mouth, slicing the vein with his fangs. His mind is swimming--surely Robert has not been _fed_ all his life? Viggo has never heard of such a thing. Even without guidance, a vampire would learn to feed from instinct. It is baffling, but for now Robert's health is his concern, and he is grateful when Robert opens his mouth, lets Viggo hold the boy's wrist over it and drain a steady flow into Robert's throat. When he has had enough, Viggo seals the wound and sends the boy on his way.

"I don't understand..."

Robert shakes his head, a sharp, short shake, and turns away. Viggo doesn't know what to say, so he bundles Robert again into his arms, and lets him rest.

~*~

 _Animal's blood, animal's blood was what he deserved, his Sire intoned with a haughty, aristocratic disdain as he drained the mice and foxes into a glass, then passed it to Robert. The blood held no satisfaction--bitter with disease, not sweet like his sister's. Like his mother's._

 _His Sire was right. Robert was a monster. His Sire had never seen such a thing, such a disgusting display of power from a fledgling. He had to be locked up for his own good. His Sire would punish him, and there was nothing Robert could do to defend himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He had slaughtered his own flesh and blood like pigs, left them to die. Those he did not feed from, the fire consumed. He couldn't remember how the fire started, only see the disgust in his Sire's eyes. The only family he had left, now._

 _Later, there were books. Books to distract from the pain, from the torment of whips on his back, of knives. His Sire could bleed and bleed him, but he wouldn't die. He was only weak. Still he lived, though in a living hell, no way to mark the time but the slow progress of technology. First there were the printed books, then their content changed, though his Sire was careful to avoid anything too useful. Robert expressed an interest in science; his Sire beat him and offered literature. Still, he was grateful. He would not lose his mind._

 _It was shortly after the invention of the electric light when his Sire's sadism took on a new form, and Robert screamed as the current fed through his genitals, as his Sire's superior strength held him to the concrete slab where he performed these experiments. He smelled the burning flesh, flesh that would heal, but the pain always lingered as a ghost, taunting, reminding him that he was still fundamentally human._

~*~

This time there is no scream, only the thrashing of Robert's limbs, and by the time Viggo comes into full awareness he realizes that Robert is clawing at his own skin, scratching gashes with his fingernails. Viggo quickly gets his arms pinned, calls his name.

"Robert. You're okay. You're safe. You're hurting yourself."

Robert blinks and then shoves, suddenly, at Viggo's chest, tears away. He gets a few steps from the sofa before he falls on the floor, sobbing. "Damn you!" he shouts. "Let me do as I will!"

"No," Viggo replies, fiercely, hugging him hard from behind.

"Why? Why do you _care_?"

"Because you hurt," Viggo whispers. "Because your soul calls to me."

"I do not have a soul," Robert growls.

"You do." Viggo brushes a gentle kiss to his neck. "You do."

~*~

"You blame yourself for something terrible," Viggo says the next morning, as they sit across from one another at the breakfast table. Elijah is at the counter, nervously brewing a pot of coffee.

Robert does not confirm or deny. He stares at the plate of egg and toast, though he does not take a bite.

"You want to punish yourself for something you did... something you believe you did, maybe."

"It is not a matter of belief," Robert says quietly. Viggo nods.

"All right. It is not a matter of belief. Then you did something terrible, and you want to hurt yourself. But you have hurt yourself too much, brother. And someone has hurt you."

"Why do you call me brother? I am no brother to you."

"You are kin because you came here, whether you intended to or not. You are kin because something in you spoke to something in me, and you are mine to care for now," Viggo murmurs, reaching across the table and touching Robert's cheek. Robert does not move away, only stares at him, his eyes blank and tired.

"You waste your time. I cannot be repaired."

"I do not want to repair you," Viggo counters. "I want to feel your injuries. I want to make them my own. I want to make you part of me."

"You're crazy."

Viggo smiles. "I do not deny it."

"What if I say no?"

"You cannot say no to yourself. You cannot stop yourself from applying pain. You are destroying yourself."

"I was left to die. I chose that fate. I am at peace with it."

"Was your life before this so terrible?"

Robert looks at Viggo with fierce eyes and snarls, snatching his plate up and dashing it to the stone floor. "You know nothing."

Viggo's eyes flicker to Elijah, he nods to the basement door and Elijah hurries away, to safety. When he is gone, Viggo pushes his chair back and stands. "I will not allow you to let go. I can feel the hurt within you. I can feel how deeply it penetrates."

"Then extricate yourself. You know nothing of this pain. You do not deserve to share it."

"You know nothing of love," Viggo replies. "You deserve to know it."

"How can you say that?" Robert argues. "What do you know of me? I am a monster."

"Why?"

"I killed. I killed for blood."

Viggo does not react to that admission, but steps forward and hugs Robert tight to his chest. "You carry yourself as one accustomed to a cage. I cannot believe that any of your crimes were voluntary."

"I killed without aid. I killed my own family."

"You were never taught to feed. Someone has harmed you. Crippled you. Where is your Sire?"

Robert's eyes flash with pain. Viggo's blood runs cold.

" _He_ did this."

"What does it matter?"

"He has abdicated his ties to you."

"He has done so voluntarily."

"I take responsibility for your training. I do so willingly. I forgive you, Robert."

Robert chokes on his words. "You cannot."

"Yes. I can. I forgive you." Viggo's hand brushes over Robert's lips. This time, he chokes on a sob.

"You don't know me."

"I forgive you," Viggo repeats. "I forgive you."

"I _killed_ them. I killed them all."

"I forgive you."

"How can I trust?"

"There is no need. I will not break my vow to you," Viggo swears. "You need not believe. You need only be."

"I don't know what I am," Robert murmurs.

"We will learn."

"I want to hurt. I want pain."

"Then I will give you pain," Viggo promises, his voice low and his eyes sharp. "But I will decide when it stops."

Reluctantly, Robert nods, and Viggo touches his cheek once more. "I forgive you," he says, and this time, Robert has no answer.


End file.
